“Iknew that all the attributes he was teased for, at age five, were going to work in his favor by thetime he was thirty-five…but I couldn’t get him there overnight. You can’t fast-forward your child’slife, no matter how much you want to.”

“By the age of twenty, you know you're not going to be a rock star. By twenty-five, you know you're not going to be a dentist or any kind of professional. And by thirty, darkness starts moving in- you wonder if you're ever going to be fulfilled, let alone wealthy and successful. By thirty-five, you know, basically, what you're going to be doing for the rest of your life, and you become resigned to your fate......I mean, why do people live so long? What could be the difference between death at fifty-five and death at sixty-five or seventy-five or eighty-five? Those extra years... what benefit could they possibly have? Why do we go on living even though nothing new happens, nothing new is learned, and nothing new is transmitted? At fifty-five, your story's pretty much over.”

“When you are five, you know your age down to the month. Even in your twenties, you know how old you are. I'm twenty-three you say, or maybe twenty-seven. But then in your thirties, something strange starts to happen. It is a mere hiccup at first, an instant of hesitation. How old are you? Oh, I'm--you start confidently, but then you stop. You were going to say thirty-three, but you are not. You're thirty-five. And then you're bothered, because you wonder if this is the beginning of the end. It is, of course, but it's decades before you admit it.”

“How about the wrong crowd," I said. "You getting in with them?""Not much luck," Paul said. "I'm trying like hell, but the wrong crowd doesn't seem to want me.""Don't quit," I said. "You want something, you go after it. I was nearly thirty-five before I could get in with wrong crowd.”

“A teasing response came to my lips and I swallowed it back. His eyes were gleaming with the tears he hadn’t so far shed. I couldn’t brush off a reaction like that. “I hated to do it that way. He’s your father and should love you unconditionally. If he can’t do that, at the very least he owes you the simple respect to let you live your life as you want to live it. We all owe that to each other.”

“I . . . thank you . . . thank you so much,’ said Tina to the man. To her horror tears welled up in her eyes.‘Yeah, whatever,’ said the man and he pushed forward to the counter. He bought his ticket and disappeared into the crowd. Five dollars was the price of a latte in the city. It was nothing to the man.Whoever said money can’t buy happiness?Tina was left holding two dollars and thirty cents. He hadn’t wanted his change. It was just bits of nothing to him. Something to pull down the pockets on his suit pants. The man had no idea what he had done and it struck Tina that through all the misery and shit there were some people who handed out bits of hope. Mostly without realising it.”